Firecracker
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: Trip and T'Pol come up against an obstacle in their fledgling relationship...and she's not budging.
1. Arrival

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters do not belong to me, but to the late, great Gene Roddenberry and the people who carry on in his name.  
  
Author's Notes: Although I write a lot in other categories, this is my first Star Trek fic. I want to emphasize that this is a Trip/T'Pol story. I hope you like it; feel free to email me or leave a review with any feedback. Thank ya!  
  
Dedication: To my little brother (and everyone else in Row P), who endured two hours on tiny hotel chairs to get Dominic Keating's autograph at Vulkon 2002 in Tampa. I've started to get feeling back in my butt; have you?   
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Captain Archer."  
  
The sound of his second in command's emotionless voice snapped Jonathan Archer back to attention. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he looked around the bridge of the Enterprise NX-01. The person to whom the lifeless tone belonged to was standing a few feet away, waiting patiently for his reply. "What is it, T'Pol?"  
  
"We just received a message from the transport ship. They will rendevous with us in two hours." The Vulcan lifted a slender eyebrow. "Perhaps you should retire to your quarters for some rest."   
  
Jonathan shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I want to be at the airlock to greet our new arrivals as soon as they get here."  
  
On the other side of the bridge, content to be seated amongst his panels and weapon controls, Lt. Malcolm Reed spoke up. "You know, I don't feel that we're quite so special anymore, sir, if a mere transport ship can have Warp-Three capability. Before we know it, passenger ships will be booked for cruises to Rigel or the Klingon planet...what's that called? I can't remember..."  
  
"Q'onos," T'Pol supplied.  
  
"Exactly." Malcolm shook his head. "We won't be alone out here anymore."  
  
"I have news for you, Lieutenant," Jonathan said, standing up. "We never have been. But I do see your point. Still, Warp-Three is a far cry from what our ship can do under pressure."  
  
Ensign Hoshi Sato lifted the communication piece from her ear. "Don't forget; they've been traveling non-stop for two months just to meet up with us."   
  
"Starfleet is sending us the best and brightest of the latest graduating Academy class. I think the least we can do is make them all feel welcome." The Captain turned to T'Pol. "You have the bridge."   
  
From the command center of the ship, Jonathan made his way to ground zero of operations, Main Engineering. It only took him a moment to find the lord of the Enterprise's underbelly; Commander Charles Tucker, Trip to his friends, was buried underneath a pile of tubes and wiring as he fixed some minor problem. At least, he assumed it was minor. Were it anything else, he was sure he'd know about it by now.   
  
"Trip," he called out to his old friend. "Are you in there somewhere?"  
  
"Just a second, Capt'n." True to his heavily accented word, in another moment, Trip slid out from under the pile. His forehead shone with healthy sweat. "Somethin' ya need, sir?"  
  
He helped Trip to his feet. "I just thought you'd like to know that they'll be here in two hours. You might want to get cleaned up."  
  
"I guess I could stand a shower." Trip dusted off his uniform sleeves. "Don't want to greet her lookin' like hell, not that she'd mind much."  
  
"T'Pol hasn't said anything to me about all of this," he began.  
  
"Prob'ly 'cause I haven't told her."  
  
Jonathan folded his arms. "Don't you think you should?"  
  
"Nah," Trip scoffed, starting for one of his consoles. "Figured I'd let it be a surprise."  
  
"After three years serving with her, I can safely say that I don't think T'Pol is all that crazy about surprises," he replied, dryly.   
  
"Ah, she's mellowed out. And ya can thank me for that."  
  
Jonathan shook his head; he already knew far more than he wanted to about his Chief Engineer and Science Officer's personal life together. "At any rate, this might be something she'd be interested in knowing about...in advance."  
  
"I'll take that under consideration, Capt'n." Flicking a salute, Trip grinned at his friend. "Two hours, ya said?"  
  
The Captain nodded. "See you then."  
  
****  
  
Opening the airlock on the Enterprise was like opening a Christmas present. There was always anticipation, even if you knew exactly who or what was going to be on the other side. Excitement over the prospect of something new. Nervousness over whether or not the experience would be good or bad. Worry that it might not be anything remotely like what it was expected to be.   
  
These were all emotions that T'Pol acknowledged, but was only beginning to explore for herself. It was all Trip's fault, she had long since concluded. After two and a half years of working side by side through everything, the routine and the dangerous, the damnable Human had finally gotten through her last set of defenses with his persistence, his patience and, she had to admit, that infuriatingly provocactive Southern American accent.   
  
There were no conditions to sharing a bed with Trip. He made no demands on her fledgling experiments with her emotions, laid down no ultimatums, and certainly never pushed her to admit things she was not even ready to consider. He was simply there on the nights she broke the lifelong habit of meditation. He made love to her when asked, and held her hand whenever she didn't.   
  
Although their affair was not a secret to their fellow crew members, T'Pol made sure there were a few feet between her and Trip as they stood with the other officers, waiting to greet the new arrivals from Starfleet. Still, she could feel his gaze creep over to her in the long minutes it took to join the transport ship to the Enterprise's airlock. The part of her that could acknowledge longing ached to return the private glance. But logic abounded, as it usually did, and her eyes remained steady on the circular door.   
  
To her right, Captain Archer gave the signal when the airlock was ready to be opened. She could sense the tension from her crewmates, and she understood its source. For three years, the crew of the Enterprise had been a family unto themselves. The only changes to this family came on the few tragic instances when a crew member gave their life to the mission. Now, fifteen new people were being thrust into the tight-knit community. It would be an interesting observation in her on-going study of Humans to see how the new crew integrated into the old.   
  
Fifteen people in Starfleet uniforms so new that the creases in the material could still be seen stood in the airlock. Each carried a duffel bag full of personal belongings and a look of innocent awe on their faces.   
  
"Welcome to the Enterprise." The Captain stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. "We've been looking forward to your arrival."   
  
As he launched into a speech about the uniqueness of the ship and what a privilege it was to work on it, T'Pol gave into an impulsive urge and glanced over at Trip. But his eyes were no longer settled onto her. Rather, he was staring into the compressed group of new faces as if he were searching for a particular one. After a moment, he seemed to find what he was looking for; his eyes lit up and he began to fidget, apparently eager for the Captain to quit talking.  
  
T'Pol made a quick sweep of the group, but could find no one who stood out. Humans tended to blend together in their individuality.  
  
"Now that I've thoroughly bored you, it's time to show you all to your quarters." The Captain looked to Hoshi. "Ensign Sato has your room assignments; if you have any questions, she'll be able to answer them. Mess is at 1800 hours. We'd like you to report to your area supervisors at 0700 tomorrow morning." He smiled again. "Thank you all, and once again, welcome."   
  
The new faces immediately turned to Hoshi as the Captain moved off to one side. "All right everyone," she began, smoothly taking charge of the group. "Follow me. Crew quarters are on..." Her voice trailed off as she led the group away from the airlock.   
  
T'Pol was about to follow them when she sensed some commotion in the back of the line. Curious, she turned her head. If she had acknowledged it, the emotion she instantly identified as jealousy streaked through her slender frame.   
  
Laughing like a hyena, Trip had gathered one of the new crew members, a young girl with dark blonde hair whose blue uniform stripes gave her away as either science or medical, into his arms and was swinging her around the wide corridor. "Damn it's good to see ya!" he declared.   
  
"If ya missed me so much, why don't ya ever write?" the girl pouted in a voice that was all too similar to Trip's.   
  
Trip finally set her down. "Writin's a two way street, darlin'." He looked at the Captain who was still standing to one side, looking amused. "Isn't she just about the cutest thing to come outta Starfleet in a long time?"  
  
His old friend simply laughed and gave the girl a quick hug, an action that made both of T'Pol eyebrows instantly arch. "I was thrilled to be able to accept your commission, Izzy," he told her.   
  
She smiled brightly with her wine colored lips. "Thank you, Mr. Jon...um.. Captain Archer."  
  
"Hey!" Trip's attention swung to his silent lover. "T'Pol...c'mere!" He motioned wildly to her. Lifting her chin, she made her way over to the trio and tried not to pull back when Trip threw an arm over her shoulder. "I want ya to meet someone real special." Putting his other arm around the young girl, he grinned at both women in his grasp. "T'Pol, this is Isabella Marie...excuse me...*Nurse* Isabella Marie Tucker, my baby sister." T'Pol blinked. "Izzy....this is Subcommander T'Pol."   
  
Trip's sister looked her up and down with a cool eye. "Hello," she finally said.   
  
The Captain cleared his throat. "Trip, we really should get back to work."   
  
"Duty calls," Trip sighed. He released the women, kissing Isabella on the forehead and giving T'Pol a wink that promised much more intimate kisses later. "Izzy..." He shook his head, still smiling like a goon. "I'll see ya real soon, darlin', I promise."  
  
T'Pol could actually feel the pure love and adoration in the girl's returned smile. "Okay, Charlie," his sister replied. She blinked at the new nickname, having never heard him referred to any way besides Trip or Commander Tucker.   
  
"Join us for dinner tonight, Izzy," the Captain told her as he and Trip walked away. "T'Pol will tell you where." Trip's sister nodded and waved to the men as they left.  
  
Once they were gone, the corridor was empty except for the two women. Isabella's smile instantly fell. She adjusted the strap of her duffel bag and looked T'Pol straight in the eye for a moment. "So," she said in a sickly sweet voice as she started off in the direction the other new crew members had been taken. "You're the emotionless bitch who's ruinin' my brother's life."  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	2. Dinner

Disclaimer: Standard.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you for the encouraging feedback, and I hope the story continues to entertain;)   
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Trip wasn't at all surprised when T'Pol entered his cabin five minutes before dinner without knocking first. He had once told her that his door was always open to her and she had taken it quite literally. At least he had pants on; one time when she had entered unannounced, he hadn't. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if one of his engineering crew hadn't been walking through the corridor at that exact second.   
  
"Why did you not tell me that your sister was to be one of the new crew members?" she demanded as soon as the metal door shut behind her.   
  
He reached for a blue undershirt. "Surprise?"   
  
She folded her hands behind the small of her back, not a good sign. It was her "I'm pissed as hell, but physically cannot let it show" pose. "I did not even know you had a sister. You have never shared that information with me."  
  
"It's never been a secret. Ye've just never asked, darlin'." Trip gestured to the few photographs that decorated his cabin. "She's in ev'ry single one of 'em."   
  
T'Pol continued to stare at him. "I have never looked at those. Every time I am in this room we..."  
  
He cut her off with great eagerness. "End up between the sheets."  
  
"...become distracted," she finished. A second passed as he tugged up the top half of his uniform and stuck his arms in the sleeves. "Is she your only sibling?"  
  
"No," he chuckled. "I've got four of 'em, all younger than me. Izzy's the only girl, though, and the baby. She was kinda...an accident. Hell, I was already fourteen when she was born."   
  
T'Pol wandered over to his desk and picked up one family photo. Seven smiling Tuckers on a checkered picnic blanket. Trip appeared to be about sixteen; Isabella, merely a toddler on his lap. "She is nothing like you."  
  
Trip laughed, zipping up to just under his throat. "Wait 'til ya get to know her better. We're two peas in the Tucker pod."   
  
"I am surprised the Captain allowed her to come on board." She set the picture down. "Being so familiar with you and with him as your oldest friend...it could create a conflict of interest."  
  
"Conflict? With Izzy?" He shook his head. "My baby sister's like a magnolia. Nothin' but sweetness. And she's a damn hard worker. Smart as hell, too. Doc's really gonna be thankful to have her in Sickbay."   
  
Not wishing to argue, T'Pol simply arched an eyebrow. "I do not think she cares much for me."  
  
"Well, she doesn't know ya yet, does she?" Trip took her hand and pulled her into his arms, despite her momentary attempt at withdrawal. "Trust me, Izzy gets along with ev'ryone. Just don't be surprised if she starts pumpin' ya for inf'rmation. I have a feelin' she's reportin' back to our mother."  
  
T'Pol inhaled sharply. "Does everyone in your family know about our personal affairs, or is it just the immediate members?"  
  
Trip pressed a soft kiss against her unyielding lips. "I'm in love, darlin'. Ya can't blame me for wantin' to share that with my family, can ya?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he smothered the words with another kiss. "Yeah, I said 'love'. But ya don't have to say it back, T'Pol. Ya know that."   
  
"I know." His warm scent sent her stomach into spirals, but it wasn't the nausea she used to get from having to endure the smell of Humans. Trip smelled like sandalwood soap and mint toothpaste; she could breathe it in all day and never get enough. "We are going to be late for dinner."  
  
"To hell with dinner," he whispered, cupping her face in his strong hands. He had her halfway down onto the bed when his stomach suddenly rumbled with the force of a small earthquake. Breaking their kiss, he smiled sheepishly. "I guess dinner can't wait."  
  
She touched her lips. "Apparently not."  
  
Trip straightened up and cleared his throat. "Will ya be meditatin' tonight?"  
  
"No," T'Pol replied softly. "But would it be wise to engage in intercourse with your sister on board?"  
  
He laughed once again, shaking his head. "Darlin', Izzy's gonna be here for a long time. And I can't last much more than a few days without ya. If this is gonna be a probl'm..."  
  
She shook her head. "Come by when you can. I will be awake."   
  
Trip kissed her forehead, but it was quite a different kiss than the one he had deposited onto his sister's earlier. "Let's get goin'. I can hear yer stomach, too."  
  
"I do not believe so," T'Pol countered.  
  
"Oh, but I do." Trip pulled her towards the door. Sometimes it was just fun to argue with her.  
  
****  
  
Jonathan had just sat down at the head of the table in his private dining quarters when the door slid open again, revealing Isabella Tucker. Rather than remain in her sexless uniform, she had changed into a white gauze blouse, unbuttoned, but tied over a short and strapless denim dress. He realized, all too poignantly, how unaccustomed he had become to women in anything other than Starfleet attire.   
  
Not that this was a woman. It was only Izzy, Trip's baby sister. She had been ten years old when they met for the first time. It was a good thing she looked so much like Trip; he was having a hard time reminding himself of who she was as she took a seat to his immediate right.  
  
"Evenin', Capt'n Archer." She slid into the chair, surrounding him with a cloud of jasmine scented perfume.   
  
He managed a smile. "I take it your brother hasn't seen this outfit yet, Izzy."  
  
Isabella looked down at her clothes. "Capt'n," she drawled. "I'm twenty-two years old. I can pretty much dress myself now."   
  
"Ouch. I hope you're not trying to make me feel old."   
  
She shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "Starfleet capt'ns don't get old; they get distinguished."   
  
"When they have an officer serving underneath them whom they can clearly picture with braces and knobby knees, they can certainly feel old," Jonathan laughed.   
  
"Braces and knobby knees." Isabella sighed. "It makes me quite depressed to think that's how ya still see me."   
  
A moment passed. Finally, he thought of something to say. "They're running a bit late."  
  
"I can't believe my brother would be late for anythin' that involves food," she replied. A frown darkened her features. "Will Subcommander T'Pol be with him?"  
  
"She does eat with us. I wouldn't recommend having what she does though, unless you're really in the mood for some bland food."   
  
Isabella smiled weakly. "Momma's told me Charlie writes about her a lot. So..." She played with the tines of the fork that sat to the left of her empty plate. "What do ya think about her?"  
  
Jonathan looked down at his hands for a long moment. He knew what answer he should give, that he was glad his good friend had found someone special in the most unexpected of places. But the half of him that still wanted T'Pol for himself kept the words from coming out. All he could do was smile again and say, "She's a dedicated member of my crew. And she makes your brother very happy."   
  
"Does she?" The younger girl gave him a meaningful look. "Is she even capable of that?"  
  
He didn't have the chance to ask for clarification; just then, Trip and T'Pol entered the dining room together. "Good! Ya'll didn't start without us!" Trip pulled out a chair for T'Pol with one hand and leaned over the table to playfully nick his sister's jaw with the other. "Izzy, Enterprise has the best damn cook in the galaxy. With the possible exception of Momma herself."   
  
"Ya should tell her that," Isabella replied. "She thinks yer lookin' too thin in yer transmissions."   
  
"Actually, he has gained 4 point 5 pounds in the past two months," T'Pol spoke up, neatly unfolding her napkin on her lap.   
  
"I'm losin' my girlish figure," Trip lamented, winking broadly.   
  
Isabella stared at the Vulcan woman as two men entered, each bearing two plates of food. "*Actually* I was thinkin' there's just about enough of him there. Not too much, not too little." She glanced down at the plate that was set in front of her and laughed suddenly. "Charlie...did ya arrange this?"  
  
He grinned back. "Ya always said once ya got rid of the braces, ya'd eat ribs at ev'ry meal."   
  
"We were just talking about Izzy's braces," Jonathan said, picking up a rib from his own plate.   
  
"A fascinating subject, I am sure." Nothing could have hidden T'Pol's sarcasm, although the two men were too wrapped up in barbequed meat to notice.   
  
But Isabella wasn't. "Let me guess. Vulcan childr'n are born with perfectly straight teeth."   
  
"If they are not, they do not endure painful orthodontia merely to conform to Human aesthetics." T'Pol dipped her spoon into her Plotneek soup.   
  
"Aren't there Vulcan aesthetics?"   
  
She looked up from her dinner and met the challenge in the younger girl's eyes. "Our thoughts tend to run deeper than such...superficialities."   
  
"I suppose that's why no one's clammerin' to make a Vulcan swimsuit calendar." Isabella cut into her baked potato with satisfaction.   
  
"Now there's a thought," Trip said, jumping back into the conversation, but having no idea what it was really about. Hearing the words "swimsuit calendar" was enough to get his attention. "It's almost a lost artform, ain't it, Capt'n?"  
  
Jonathan wiped his mouth on his napkin. "And only slightly degrading."   
  
"Oh, it's not that degradin'," Isabella replied after swallowing a mouthful. "Durin' my first year at the Academy, I was asked to be in one."  
  
Trip choked. "I hope to hell ya had the sense to say 'no', little sister!"  
  
"My roommate ended up goin' in my place, Charlie, don't worry. It only would've been somethin' to do on a borin' Saturday anyway."  
  
With his elbows on the table, he pointed his fork at Isabella. "There's always studyin'."  
  
She gave him the smile that, as far as her older brothers were concerned, excused her of everything from tattling to murder. "I'm *sure* that's what you and Capt'n Archer did ev'ry weekend while ya'll were in school."   
  
"Of course," Trip replied, stubbornly. He shot a look at Jonathan.  
  
"Absolutely," the other man nodded.   
  
From that point on, the dinner conversation turned to daily life aboard the Enterprise, and ended with a rather dull conversation, at least dull to Isabella, between the Captain and T'Pol over some minor adjustment to the sensors.   
  
After a dessert of pecan pie and coffee, Trip stood up and offered his sister his elbow. "How would ya like a tour of the ship, Izzy?"  
  
"Why, I'd love it." Pushing her chair back, she walked around the table and linked her arm with his. "Capt'n...can ya join us?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Izzy." He looked at his second in command. "But I'm sure T'Pol would like to go along with you two."  
  
The Vulcan in question set her napkin next to her plate and stood. "Actually there are several projects to which I owe attention."  
  
Isabella smiled. "That's too bad. Charlie...c'mon! I'm eager to see this ship I've heard so much about!"   
  
Shooting T'Pol a curious look, Trip let himself be pulled out of the dining room. After the Tucker children were gone, T'Pol sat back down. "Captain," she began. "Do you have any siblings?"  
  
He shook his head. "Only child."  
  
"I, too, am my parent's only offspring. Perhaps, even though you have none of your own, you can explain to me the familial bond between Human siblings."  
  
Jonathan took a long sip of coffee. "I'm not entirely sure what you want to know, T'Pol."  
  
She looked straight at him. "How much influence does a sister have over her brother?"   
  
"In general....or are we talking about a specific set of siblings?" When T'Pol merely blinked, he sighed. "Let's just put it this way. I've never known of anything Izzy's asked for that Trip hasn't done everything in his power to get for her."  
  
"I see." There was a moment's pause. "Excuse me, Captain."  
  
"Goodnight," he called out, but she was already gone. Leaving the dishes for the galley staff, Jonathan retreated back to his quarters. Before he even turned the lights on, a bundle of fur and energy launched itself at his knees.   
  
He bent down to scratch a pair of soft ears. "Missed you too, Porthos." The dog barked once, reminding its master that dinner had not yet been provided. After he set a bowl of food down, Jonathan unzipped the front of his uniform and flopped into a chair. It was going to be another long night alone in the Captain's too-big-for-just-one-person berth.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	3. Games

Disclaimer: All hail Gene Roddenberry and his vision of the future.   
  
Author's Notes: I hope at least one or two people are reading this, and if you are, that you're enjoying it. I appreciate any sort of feedback. I'm just a creative writing major in the process of learning.   
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Why am I not surprised that you Americans came up with this idiotic game?"  
  
Ensign Travis Mayweather gave the Englishman seated across from him a scoffing look. "Oh, come on....this is tradition. People have been playing this for a hundred years at least. It's only idiotic to those who end up with a really bad one."  
  
Hoshi smothered a giggle. "So, how bad is yours, Malcolm?"  
  
Sighing, he picked up his glass from the small Mess table. "Miss Kitty Chapman, all right?"   
  
"That's not so bad," Hoshi consoled him. "At least you're not Pebbles Mikagi."   
  
"Or Velvet Glass." Travis patted the older man's shoulder. "There's always someone with a worse one."  
  
Malcolm was about to reply when he caught sight of something far more interesting. Commander Tucker entered the Mess Hall, which certainly wasn't an oddity. But on his arm, displaying a smile brighter than one of the stars outside the window and wearing a dress short enough to stop San Francisco traffic, was a lovely, unfamiliar blonde woman.   
  
After a second, Travis turned his head to see what he was staring at, and immediately turned back around. "Who's that?" he whispered loudly.   
  
Hoshi snuck a look for herself. "I think she's one of the new crew members."  
  
"I'd say she's settling in fairly well," Malcolm commented, dryly.   
  
Travis lowered his voice even more. "Do you think T'Pol knows about this?"   
  
"Why don't we ask?" Hoshi sat up straight. "They're heading right for...." She stopped. "Commander! Good evening!"  
  
Both men stood up as Trip and his companion approached the table. "Hey...sit down, ya'll. It's just me..." Trip grinned at his friends. "And my little sister."  
  
"Sister?" Malcolm repeated.  
  
The girl spoke up to introduce herself. "Isabella Tucker. Izzy. I'm one of the new nurses."   
  
Trip pulled over two chairs from another table and gestured for Isabella to sit in one. "I was just takin' Izzy on a tour of the ship. Figured I'd introduce her to all my friends." He pointed to the slender, Asian woman. "Izzy....Ensign Sato, Hoshi. Linguist extraordinare."   
  
"Hi." Hoshi smiled and nodded.   
  
"Then there's Lt. Malcolm Reed. He fires all the cannons and torpedoes 'cause he likes blowin' things up."   
  
Malcolm snorted softly. "Pleasure to meet you."  
  
"And Ensign Travis Mayweather. He flys this bird," Trip finished up. "At least, whenev'r we send up enough juice for him to do it."   
  
"Which never seems to happen at the most crucial moments." Travis nodded at Isabella. "Welcome aboard."   
  
Isabella laughed. "My brother hasn't written me nearly enough, but he has mentioned all of ya when he has. All good stuff, I promise."   
  
Trip looked around at his friends. "So, what are ya'll up to?"   
  
"Hoshi and I were just teaching him..." Travis pointed to Malcolm. "...an ancient American game."  
  
"And what's that?" Isabella asked.   
  
"The Porn Star Name," Hoshi replied without hesitation.   
  
Trip rolled his eyes. "Lord...I don't think I've played that since high school. Remember that one, Izzy?"  
  
"Sure I do. The name of yer first pet and yer mother's maiden name..." She laughed. "Mine's always been Bunny Ellroy. I wasn't a creative four year old when I named my rabbit."  
  
"Stripe Ellroy," Trip supplied his name.   
  
"What sort of pet did you name Stripe?" Malcolm wanted to know.   
  
"A garden snake I found in the backyard when I was six."   
  
Isabella made a face. "It died long before I was born, thank the Lord."   
  
"So," Hoshi leaned forward. "What other funny little things can you tell us about your brother?"  
  
"Well..." Isabella began.  
  
Trip stood back up, quickly cutting her off. "You know we've only covered 'bout half of the ship, so we'll be on our way."   
  
"It was real nice to meet ya'll," Isabella told them over her shoulder as Trip pulled her to her feet. Her gaze lingered on Travis for an extra second. "I hope to see ya again soon."   
  
When the siblings were gone, Hoshi cocked an eyebrow at Travis. "That last bit was all for you, you know."  
  
A blush tinted his coffee-colored cheeks. "I don't think so."   
  
She and Malcolm exchanged a look. "Come on, mate. No one's that bleeding oblivious," he said, pointedly.  
  
Travis sat back in his chair, focusing too much attention on his empty coffee cup. "Whatever. Miss Kitty."   
  
The Mess Hall resounded with the sound of British protests and feminine laughter.  
  
****  
  
"I like yer friends."  
  
Trip tore his eyes away from his pride and joy, the Warp-Five engine, and looked at his sister. "Did ya doubt ya would?"  
  
"Honestly..." Isabella hugged her arms around her slender body. "After hearin' ya were...involved with a Vulcan...I was a little worried."  
  
"Why should it bother ya?"   
  
"It...um...doesn't," she lied. There was a long pause. "I saw Cassie at my graduation ceremony."   
  
He drew in a slow breath. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. She was there to see her little sister, remember Melanie?" Trip nodded and Isabella continued. "Anyway, she came over, so I had to talk to her, to be polite."  
  
"Izzy..."  
  
Her eyes were watery, but the shadow she half-stood in hide them. "I think she misses ya, Charlie. I mean, she didn't say anythin', but that's the feelin' I got. And then I started rememberin' when ya'll promised me I could be yer flower girl, and I had my dress picked out and everythin' and..."  
  
Trip shook his head. "Darlin'," he began gently, but firmly. "Cassie and I were over a long time ago. No sense dredgin' all that up again."  
  
"But didn't ya love her, Charlie?"  
  
He gave a short sigh. "At the time...yeah. I did."   
  
"And she loved ya right back. I remember hearin' her tell ya and then yer ears would get all pink, and I figured it was 'cause ya *heard* it. Out loud. I mean, any fool could've looked at Cassie and seen how much she loved ya, but yer the sort of person who needs to hear it. I know ya are."  
  
"Izzy, what's all this about?"  
  
His sister looked down at her hands. "I don't know," she finally replied. "Just reminiscin', I guess." Her eyes lifted to meet his. "Do yer ears get all pink for Subcommander T'Pol?"  
  
"Next time I see her, I'll look in a mirror and get back to ya."   
  
Isabella lightly pushed at his shoulder. "I'm bein' serious, Charlie."  
  
"I know, darlin'. Just don't do it too much or there'll be little worry lines all over yer face." He tweaked her nose. "It's gettin' late, so I'm gonna scoot ya back to yer cabin now."   
  
She let out a sigh of her own, but followed him out of Engineering. To her credit, she managed not to ask him where he would be spending the evening. It was an easy enough question to answer on her own.   
  
****  
  
The next morning T'Pol awoke completely tangled up in Trip's bare, muscled arms. Her first instinct was to disengage herself from the cloying embrace, but when she started to move away, he tightened his hold in his sleep, pressing her more fully against him. T'Pol gave in; she did have a entire hour until she was due on the bridge, after all.   
  
Her thoughts drifted back to her dreams, which were always far more vivid if they came after being with Trip. But last night, the images in her subconscious had bordered on the macabre. The ones she could still remember clearly haunted her in those sleepy moments. Her lover's painfully shocked face. A pool of blood around her lower body. Isabella's angry, accusing glare.   
  
Blinking, as if doing so would wipe her mind's slate clean, T'Pol turned her face into Trip's warm neck. He stirred suddenly, but only to roll his heavy as lead body on top of hers, in the pretense of still being fast asleep.   
  
"I know you are awake," she said, her voice muffled by his chest.   
  
Trip opened one eye. "Sorry, darlin'. I thought I was rollin' over on somebody else." He shifted his body off of hers. "What time is it?"   
  
"I would guess 0700," T'Pol replied.   
  
"Hmm....a whole hour 'til duty..." He scratched his stubbled chin. "What can we do with a whole hour?"  
  
T'Pol sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Bathe. Dress. Have breakfast."  
  
Trip watched her slide out of bed, taking the sheet along with her in some lingering show of modesty. He had to smile; modesty from the woman who had let him rub decontamination gel all over her body only a few days after they had met amused him. Still, sometimes covering something up made it all the more appealing. His body grew tight to see her wrapped up in the bed sheet, her short hair mussed, lips still swollen from the night before.   
  
"Let's talk 'bout this bathin' thing..."  
  
She glanced back at his shamelessly nude body. "Are you still on your quest to conserve water by showering with a friend?"  
  
He grinned. "Hey...ya ain't complained yet, darlin'."   
  
Just as she was about to give into temptation and invite him to join her in the adjoining bathroom, T'Pol's entire world suddenly became dizzy. She grabbed at the wall to hold herself up. Trip was at her side in no more than a second. "I am fine," she told him before he could ask. "Perhaps I should have meditated last night after all."   
  
"I thought ya had fun not meditatin'." His hand cupped the curve of her waist through the bunched-up sheet.   
  
T'Pol's head still felt a bit light; she blinked several times to clear the strange feeling away. "I did. But if it is going to adversely affect my health to go without for several days in a row..."  
  
"It's my fault for bein' too damn sexy."  
  
She pursed her lips. "I will stop by Sickbay this morning and ask Dr. Phlox for his opinion."  
  
Trip nodded and kissed away the exasperation on her lovely face. He liked nothing better than seeing her eyelids flutter as he pulled back, knowing she enjoyed their kisses as much as he did. "Say hi to Izzy while yer there. Bein' her first day, she's bound to need a little encouragement."  
  
If she could have, T'Pol would have groaned out loud. As it was, she simply turned on her heel and started into the bathroom, barely allowing Trip to follow her in, an eager puppy at her heels.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	4. News

Disclaimer: Paramount owns, I simply borrow.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you for all the kind words. I'm glad not many of you like Izzy;) She's definitely got issues. I hope you continue to enjoy!   
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Be careful with that!"  
  
Isabella pulled her hand back at the eccentric doctor's shout of warning. She waited for the explanation to follow, but when a minute had passed without one, she had to ask, "Um...what is it?"  
  
Dr. Phlox bustled over to her and picked up what had appeared to her to be a pretty rock. "Pilkterian Brine Thorpe. A most fragile creature." Without warning, the "rock" moved, untucking spined legs from underneath its body.  
  
"Oh my Lord!" Isabella jumped back, clapping a hand to her mouth. "Why on earth do ya keep this...thing in Sickbay?"  
  
Puzzled, the Delubian doctor allowed the Thorpe to crawl halfway up his arm. "It's medicinal value is immeasurable. It secrets a venom that prevents scar tissue from forming." He placed the creature into a glass cage. "I can see you're going to have many questions in the next few days."  
  
Isabella flashed a weak smile. "I'll just avoid anythin' that looks like a rock from now on." Glancing around the immaculate Sickbay, she rocked up onto the balls of her feet. "Is it always this quiet?"  
  
"Injuries are few and far between," Dr. Phlox replied. "But as you Humans say, when it rains, it pours."  
  
"I'm just not sure how much of a help I can be to ya right now."  
  
He chuckled. "Perhaps I should start you off with a tour, so you won't be surprised by anymore of my..."  
  
The Sickbay doors slid open, cutting him off. Eager to do something with her four years of Academy training, Isabella was instantly alert. But her peak quickly subsided; it was only her brother's Vulcan lover.   
  
"Ah, good morning Subcommander," Phlox greeted her. "How can we assist you today?"  
  
T'Pol barely glanced at Isabella. "May we speak in private, Doctor?"   
  
"Certainly." He nodded at the younger girl. "Nurse Tucker, perhaps you can get us some coffee from the Mess Hall. I have a newfound fondness for Colombian roast."   
  
Isabella bit the inside of her cheek. Two hours into her first shift and she was already being regulated to coffee service. "I'll take my time."   
  
On her way to the Mess Hall, she quite literally bumped into Captain Archer. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Capt'n!" she apologized.   
  
Jonathan smiled at younger girl. "No harm done. How are you settling in so far?"  
  
She licked her lips. "I adore yer ship. It's...well, it's the stuff of dreams."  
  
"Yes, she is," he replied, rather wistfully.   
  
"I just want ya to know how much it means to me....bein' here." Isabella looked up at him from behind a thick fringe of dark eyelashes. "Thank ya, Capt'n."   
  
"Well, your Academy record was more than enough to ensure you the position." He wasn't quite sure what possessed him, but he couldn't stop his next words. "You know...I've known you as long as I've known Trip, practically. When we're not around anyone else, Izzy, you can call me Jonathan."   
  
"No Mr. Johnny anymore?" Her tone was subtle, but playful.   
  
"No," he laughed. "I feel old enough."   
  
Isabella shook her head. "I told ya last night. Yer not old." There was a long, heavy pause. "I had better get Dr. Phlox's coffee and get back to Sickbay." She didn't tell him the rest of her thought, that she might get back in time to find out what T'Pol and the doctor were talking about.   
  
"And I...um..." He blinked. "The bridge."   
  
Smiling softly, she walked past him, making sure her shoulder brushed ever so slightly against his arm. "Bye, Jonathan."   
  
He cursed when she was out of earshot. He would be smelling jasmine for the rest of the day.  
  
****  
  
"Perform the test again."  
  
Dr. Phlox smiled patiently. "It would be a waste of time, Subcommander. The results of the first can be trusted."  
  
T'Pol looked up at the bright white ceiling. "Surely there is a margin of error."  
  
"Er...yes." He hesitated. "There's a margin of error in everything...as you and Commander Tucker have just proven."   
  
Her gaze lowered. "It was a risk I accepted from the start. I do not know why I am so...surprised."  
  
"Well, it's to be expected." Being in the sectioned off examination room and deeply engrossed in their conversation, neither Phlox nor T'Pol heard Isabella slip into Sickbay with a cup of Colombian roast coffee and an open ear. "Finding out you're going to be a parent is an emotional experience for anyone," he continued, unaware of the third party in the room. "Even a Vulcan, I'd imagine."  
  
The full cup fell to the floor and shattered. T'Pol's head instantly turned to locate the source of the noise. Isabella's face was whiter than the overhead lighting as she slowly backed away. Neither woman said a word as they stared at each other. Finally, Trip's sister broke the moment, running out of Sickbay as fast as she could.   
  
T'Pol slid off the examination table. "Excuse me, Doctor."   
  
Phlox watched the Science officer run after his nurse. "Interesting," he commented. But truthfully, the most interesting aspect of his day so far was learning that in ten months time he would deliver quite possibly the galaxy's first half-Human, half-Vulcan child.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	5. Rumors

Disclaimer: Really rich, powerful people own everything.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for the continued support;) I hope you're still enjoying!  
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
T'Pol caught up with Isabella in the deserted Mess Hall after a winding chase through the ship's corridors. She had slumped into an empty table; her chest rose and fell with each tearful breath. A long time passed as T'Pol watched her, unsure of what to say or even if she had to say anything at all. She had her own thoughts to process.   
  
She was pregnant with Trip's child. A Human child. No, half-Human. Half-Vulcan. Regardless of the hypothetical question "Can it be done?" that they had solved for both species' inquiring minds, there was the enormous impact it would have on just her and Trip alone. Especially her. If the child could be carried to term at all, her life was about to undergo a drastic change. The problem of Trip's sister suddenly was very small.  
  
Yet, she had chased after her, as though compelled to smooth things over with the girl.   
  
"I'm not surprised that outta the two of us, I'm the one gettin' emotional over yer pregnancy ," Isabella said, breaking the silence. "I mean, it's prob'ly not havin' any effect on ya at all, is it? Kinda like havin' a wart or somethin'. Just a biological fact of life, right?"  
  
T'Pol folded her hands. "It is a consequence of intercourse. And whether you like it or not, your brother and I have been..."  
  
Wiping angry tears away, Isabella cut her off. "I know damn well what ye've been doin' with my brother. The question I have for ya now, Subcommander, is this." She turned a hard stare on the Vulcan woman. "What do ya intend to do 'bout it?"  
  
"It would be illogical to make any decisions without consulting Trip," she replied.   
  
"Of course. Gotta be logical 'bout the whole thing, don't ya?" Isabella shook her head. "Ya don't know my brother very well if ya think he's gonna react to this logically."  
  
T'Pol unclasped her hands. "Being Human, I would expect nothing less from him. However, even your brother cannot ignore certain facts that must be considered in this choice we have to make."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"I would prefer to discuss them with Trip and Trip alone."   
  
Isabella watched her for a moment. "Do ya love my brother?"  
  
"Love is an emotion that..."   
  
Her words were cut off by a bitter chuckle. "That ya just don't have, Subcommander. And ya nev'r will. 'Cause yer not Human. Yer a Vulcan." She stood up and crossed over to T'Pol. "My brother deserves someone who can love him. More than that even...he deserves someone who can say it out loud. Can ya do that, Subcommander?"  
  
T'Pol didn't look away, didn't even blink, but no answer came to her.   
  
"I didn't think so. Isabella took a step back: her lovely face molded into the expression from T'Pol's dreams. Angry, accusing. "Don't trap Charlie into a life with ya...'cause he's a gentleman and would nev'r shirk away from his responsibil'ties....don't trap him into bein' with ya if yer nev'r gonna be able to give him yer heart. Let him find someone else who can. Someone Human."   
  
"Your brother's decisions are his own," T'Pol replied with an undertone of venom in her voice. "Not yours."  
  
"Careful, Subcommander. Yer dangerously close to an emotion." Isabella pointed to T'Pol's flat abdomen. "That can't be good for the baby."   
  
She started for the door, but T'Pol reached it first, effectively blocking her path. "I have a few things I wish to say."  
  
Isabella squeezed past her. "All I want to hear from ya, is that yer gonna tell Charlie. Today."   
  
T'Pol caught the girl's arm in a grip stronger than a good sized Human man's. "This matter does not concern you, Nurse Tucker. When, where, and how I tell the father of my child that he is to become such is not for you to decide." She released Isabella's arm. "I can be your ally, or I can be your enemy. That choice is *entirely* yours."   
  
As she rubbed what would soon be bruises, Isabella's eyes narrowed into thin, teary slits. "Blood is thicker than anythin', Subcommander," she whispered. "But ya may just have to find that out the hard way."   
  
"Is that meant to be a threat?"  
  
"Yer a smart Vulcan." She walked away, tossing her next words over her shoulder. "Figure it out."   
  
****  
  
That night, only Jonathan and Trip showed up for dinner in the Captain's private dining room. As they were served plates of roast beef and asparagus, Jonathan looked at his friend. "Where's T'Pol? And Izzy?"  
  
Trip shrugged and dug into his dinner. "T'Pol said she wasn't hungry, and Izzy wanted to eat with the 'young' people."   
  
"I can understand that." He sipped his iced tea. "Your sister certainly has grown up, Trip."  
  
"Yeah, she always was a cute thing." Trip shook his head as he swallowed. "Now she's regular knockout. I'm gonna have to make it known to the guys on this ship...she's off limits to anyone who wants to keep all his parts in workin' order."  
  
Jonathan laughed, but it was only half-hearted. "Just don't smother her too much. It tends to make you Tucker kids rebel."   
  
"Izzy's the best of us," Trip replied. "And I only want the best for her. Yeah, I know she's gonna get married someday and have kids, which means havin' sex, but for now, she's young and smart and bein' given the greatest opportunity in the world...to be on this ship. And I don't want some horny little Ensign in the Science lab ruinin' it all 'cause he couldn't keep his britches buttoned."  
  
"She's only been on board for two days. Hardly enough time to get into any trouble."  
  
****  
  
Without hesitation, shame, or guilt, Isabella pressed Travis Mayweather further into a shadowed corner of the empty and silent Sickbay. Her hands curved around his back as she kissed him, fast and furiously. The helmsman himself seemed to be caught in some sort of pleasurable purgatory, lingering between reality and fantasy. The warm, willing and very insistent woman wrapping herself around him was also his superior officer's baby sister.   
  
All he had wanted to do when he decided to stop by Sickbay, was escort her to dinner. Now, he was caught in a position most men would envy him for, yet he had the vague sense that he should stop things before they went any further. The decision to pull away was speeded up considerably when his body started to react on its own.   
  
Gently pushing her back, Travis broke their kiss. "What are you doing?" he panted.   
  
"Was I bein' unclear?" Isabella kissed the underside of his jaw. "Maybe I should've said it out loud..."  
  
"No...no, I got the message." His eyes rolled up to the ceiling as her tongue danced over his neck. "But we shouldn't be...shouldn't be doing this."  
  
She blew cool air on the wet path her mouth had taken. "Why not?"  
  
"It's not...right," he managed to say.   
  
Isabella froze for a moment before letting her hands drop. She lifted her head from the crook of his shoulder and stared up at him. "Why is it wrong?" she demanded.   
  
Thinking fast, Travis could only come up with the age-old, but still valid excuse, "I don't have any protection."   
  
After a moment, she laughed. "That's always a good reason." After a quick glance around the lab, she continued. "I bet there's not one condom in this entire place. And I don't suppose any of the doctor's little creatures could secret somethin' that would prevent anythin' one hundred percent." She snorted delicately. "If any of 'em could, Subcommander T'Pol wouldn't be..." Isabella stopped at a precisely calculated point.   
  
Travis blinked. "T'Pol is pregnant?"   
  
Clearing her throat, Isabella wiped a bit of smudged lipstick off the corner of his mouth. "Ya didn't hear it from me."   
  
****  
  
By the next day, half of the ship knew of the blessed event. It wasn't entirely Travis' fault; he had only let the news slip to Hoshi, who had in turn only told Malcolm. From there, it was anyone's guess how one of the girls in Engineering heard about it.   
  
Two days later, the rest of the crew had caught up, until it seemed as though only the Captain and the father-to-be himself were in the dark. And T'Pol, blissfully unwilling to acknowledge the vague feeling that everyone was staring at her, was also unaware that her private life with Commander Tucker was being discussed over every mess table, computer console and poker game on the ship.   
  
Two weeks passed without event. Mapping out a nebula had most of the crew occupied, and afforded little time for them to mull over the ship's first pregnancy. The new arrivals settled into the routine of the Enterprise without any difficulty. And somehow without making it obvious to her brother, Isabella avoided T'Pol as though she had the plague. There was no more mention of T'Pol telling Trip about the baby, which she had so far neglected to do.   
  
It was the Vulcan woman's first experience with the haunting emotion of guilt. It settled over her in a thin mist every time she was in Trip's arms. But whenever she set her mind to breaking the news, she found that she couldn't. It was still too early. According to her daily check-up with Dr. Phlox, the baby was developing quite normally at two months. But he had no idea if things would continue as smoothly.   
  
If the baby made it past the three month mark, she would tell Trip. If it turned out that Vulcan DNA and Human were simply not compatible and the child was lost, he would never have to endure the knowledge and pain that would come with it. T'Pol made these decisions while watching him sleep one night, instantly realizing that she would do anything in her power to keep him from being hurt.   
  
That particular moment wasn't her first encounter with love, but it was the first time she said the words out loud. His eyes never opened; he was too immersed in his dreams.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	6. Clash

Disclaimer: No one ever gives props to the actors who really create these characters and bring them to life, 'cause they don't own them on paper. This is a shout-out to them. (PS: I take no credit.)  
  
Author's Notes: I hope no one's given up on the story. The really fun stuff is yet to come;)  
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Commander...I think we've got this. You can probably call it a night."   
  
Trip glanced up from his console. "I just gotta realign this one little thing, Ensign. Surely ya can put up with me for a little while longer."  
  
Ensign Bowen coughed to cover up his mild embarrassment. "Of course, sir. That's...um...not what I meant. I just thought that you'd like to get back to your...uh...family."  
  
"Who, Izzy? You know my sister?" The Chief Engineer gave his crewman a suspicious once-over. "Just how well do ya know her?"  
  
"I don't! Sir. I mean, I've seen her at Mess and..." Bowen ran his fingers through his hair. "And she's really pretty and all. No! I mean, she's not that pretty. Well, she is, but not that I've noticed...too much or anything and..." He stopped for a moment to collect himself, still feeling the pressure of an older brother's protective glare. "I was only thinking about Subcommander T'Pol, sir."  
  
Trip folded his arms. "T'Pol's prob'ly older than all of us, Ensign. I think she can get along without me for one night."  
  
"Yes, but with the baby and all, I figured..."  
  
He was cut off by his commanding officer. "Baby?" Trip shook his head. "What are ya talkin' 'bout?"   
  
Bowen blinked. "Um...you and the Subcommander, sir. Your baby?"  
  
"Now just where did ya hear somethin' as wild as that?"  
  
"Well....I heard it from Johnson. But he heard it from someone else." There was a pause. "It's kind of a hard thing to keep a secret around here, Commander, a pregnancy. I mean, it's the first on the ship. And with you being Human and her being a Vulcan...well, I guess I don't have to tell you, do I?"   
  
Trip stared at the console for a long time. "I have no idea what ya think ye've heard, Ensign, but I promise ya Subcommander T'Pol is *not* pregnant."  
  
"Are you sure, sir?"  
  
He turned an incredulous stare on the young man. "I think ya should trust me on this one."  
  
"I do, sir!" Bowen scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. "I've just also heard..." He stopped.  
  
"Oh please." Trip's smile was dangerous. "Do go on."  
  
The Ensign hesitated. "I've heard that the Subcommander has been going to Sickbay every day for the past couple of weeks. If she's not pregnant...then is something wrong with her?"  
  
"I don't know," Trip said a minute later. Straightening up, he stormed out of Engineering. "But I'm damn sure gonna find out."  
  
****  
  
"The's'at katra k'tei i'k'therie. In'k'tmneri a'nailara laikani'he. The's'at katra a'ri..."  
  
Instead of the pleasant chime, the loud pounding of a fist against metal cut T'Pol's meditation prayer short. She opened her eyes, pausing to shift realities. She wasn't sure if it was the pregnancy or the fact that she didn't do it regularly anymore, but lately her meditations would draw her into her mind so deeply that it was often a struggle to get back.   
  
"Come," she called out.   
  
The door slid open. Trip stepped inside. A moment later T'Pol decided that 'step' was far too light of a verb for how he entered her cabin. Stormed, perhaps. Crashed, even more accurate. The door slid closed behind him, but for a long time he said nothing. T'Pol kept a steady gaze on him. If he had something to say to her, and he obviously did, he would say it in his own time.   
  
But as the seconds turned into minutes, even the most stoic of Vulcans would have begun to feel uneasy.   
  
Just when T'Pol was about to speak, Trip beat her to it. "Are ya pregnant?"   
  
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. Stalling would have been illogical.   
  
Trip nodded; the muscles in his jaw were visibly tight. "Were ya plannin' on lettin' me in on it?"   
  
"When the time was right." T'Pol extinguished her candles and stood up.   
  
"And when was that gonna be? 'Bout time the kid gets ready to enter the Academy?!"   
  
"Your anger is justified," she told him. "But sarcasm is unnecessary."  
  
He started laughing. "'My anger is justified.' I swear, T'Pol, sometimes there's just no winnin' with ya. When I think 'bout the only thing I wanna do is strangle ya, ya come up with somethin' like that...and I can't do anythin'." His shoulders lifted. "I mean, what can I do? Ya wanted to keep this a secret from me. My baby...our baby. A secret."  
  
"I had my reasons."  
  
"Really? Well, I'm sorry, darlin'. They're just not justified." Trip moved closer to her. "By all rights, I should've known before anyone else! Damnit, T'Pol...don't I figure in this at all?"   
  
T'Pol glanced away. "And I should have been the one to tell you. Not your sister."   
  
He frowned. "What?"  
  
"Isabella. Despite the fact that she is your sister, she still had no right to..."  
  
"I didn't hear anythin' from Izzy, T'Pol." Trip crossed his arms. "I had to hear it from one of the guys on Beta Shift. Not even Alpha Shift! Not that it would've been any better, mind ya. But still..."   
  
T'Pol started at him. "I cannot believe it."   
  
"That's *my* line, darlin'." He poked his own chest. "How long have ya known..." He stopped. "Wait...how come ya brought Izzy into this?"  
  
"I did not." T'Pol drew in a deep breath, narrowing her eyes into thin slits. "She put herself into it."   
  
Trip shook his head. "I don't understand. Did Izzy do somethin'?"   
  
"I have to take care of something, Trip." She started to walk past him, but Trip caught her before she could get by. "I said..."  
  
"Look, ya know me. Ya know I don't like bein' in the dark." His gaze dropped down to her stomach. "Just tell me why ya didn't tell me when ya found out."   
  
T'Pol extracted herself from his grip. "What you need to hear...what I need to say, I cannot yet. Now, excuse me."   
  
"T'Pol!" He followed her out into the corridor, much to the surprise of several crewmen walking through it. They stopped to blatantly watch Commander Tucker chase Subcommander T'Pol around the ship. "T'Pol...where are ya goin'? We have to talk 'bout this! We can even talk 'bout it logically, if ya want!!"  
  
"Please do not follow me, Trip." T'Pol tripled her speed until she was almost running. "You should not have to be involved in this."  
  
Trip matched her speed as best he could; Vulcan bodies were just built for speed better than Humans. "I shouldn't be involved?! I hate to break it to ya, T'Pol, but I kinda already am, by way of makin' one-half of that baby growin' in ya!"   
  
She rounded a corner. "This is something which I must deal with on my own."   
  
"So, I'm bein' shut out again?! Do I ever get to get involved with all of this? Or am I just some kinda...sperm donor?!"   
  
T'Pol stopped suddenly. "While I am appreciative of the fact that you do not seem to mind sharing this with everyone watching, I would prefer that any further discussions we have on this topic take place in a more private location."  
  
He glanced around, noticing the crewmen around them, some of whom had even been following them. "Darlin', 'pparently, they already know. Might as well get it first hand rather than second."  
  
Her eyebrow lifted, but instead of replying, she turned and continued on her way, this time at a slower pace. Shaking his head, Trip followed. He didn't have time to launch back into his tirade; in only another moment, they stopped in front of a cabin door.   
  
"T'Pol," Trip began. "Isn't this..."  
  
She had already hit the chime and it wasn't long before the door slid open. Isabella stood in the doorway, her arms folded over her uniform. "Is there somethin' you want, Subcommander?" Her frosty tone prompted Trip to blink several times before stepping up behind T'Pol. Isabella's eyes grew wide. "Charlie?"   
  
"I believe that this is the best place for our discussion," T'Pol told him. "Your sister has taken the liberty of informing the crew. And now that you know, there are no more secrets. May we come in, Isabella?"  
  
The centers of her eyes flashed, but her mask of innocence remained intact. "All right. C'mon in."  
  
As soon as the door shut behind them, Trip went to his sister. "Izzy...please tell me that you had nothin' to do with spreadin' all this stuff 'bout the baby."   
  
Looking up at her brother's earnest face, Isabella's eyes watered suddenly. "I'm sorry, Charlie," she whispered. "I only told Travis...'cause I was worried 'bout you and didn't know what else to do when I found out." Her gaze lowered. "I handled it badly."   
  
"Worried 'bout me?" Trip shook his head. "I don't understand."   
  
"Your sister does not like Vulcans," T'Pol interjected. "I do not believe she thinks that I am...good enough for you."   
  
Trip expelled a short laugh. "C'mon now...Izzy's as open 'bout new cultures as anyone in Starfleet. Hell, she joined up, didn't she?" He put his hand on his sister's shoulder. "Tell her, Izzy."   
  
Isabella hesitated for a moment, tears still threatening to well over. "Charlie...I've been tryin' to tell ya...tryin' to remind ya how things were with Cassie. All the times she told ya she loved ya made ya so happy. And ya just can't get that with...her." She gestured to T'Pol. "It's not in her nature to love...like a Human. Or at all."   
  
"Izzy..." Trip's expression molded into one of disbelief. "I can't believe...yer sayin' all of this."  
  
"Am I wrong?" Her eyes flashed again. "If ya can tell me of one instance where ye've known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she loves ya..."   
  
He shook his head again. "Darlin', I don't need to give ya any specifics. I know just by lookin' at her. And seein' how far we've come. Ya can't know all of that 'cause ya haven't been here for it. Yer just gonna have to trust yer old brother."   
  
"I can't, Charlie!" Isabella shook off his hand. No longer fighting her tears, they spilled down her cheeks. "Yer not thinkin' with any part of yerself that's above yer belt!"   
  
"Hey now." Trip held up a warning hand. "Careful, Izzy."   
  
"Ev'ryone knows it! Why do ya think Momma didn't mind the commission I chose? Ya think she or Daddy or the boys liked havin' both of us out here?" She brushed at her cheeks with the back of her hand. "They're all just as worried 'bout you. And none of 'em like thinkin' yer involved with someone who can't give ya everythin' ya deserve."   
  
Her brother crossed his arms. "And what's that, Izzy?"  
  
"Love!" she screamed. "Devotion. Tenderness. Compassion. Passion!! She's a Vulcan! And by way of what she is, she can't give ya any of that!!" Isabella reached for her brother. "Ya might not be able to see it now, Charlie, but yer gonna wake up one day and realize all that stuff's missin'. And yer gonna want it! I know ya! I know ya are!" Her angry gaze swung back to T'Pol. "And if she saddles ya with a baby, yer never gonna be able to get out. She'll have ya trapped forev'r!" She stopped to catch her breath; her chest rose and fall as her tears continued to flow.   
  
"I had no idea ya were even cap'ble of feelin' this way, Izzy." Trip ran a hand down his face. "And I can't help it...I'm disappointed in ya."   
  
"Charlie..." she began.  
  
Trip took a step back. "It's never been in my nature to live my life anyway but the way I see fit. And the way I see fit..." He looked at T'Pol. "It's with her." Isabella opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "She's part of my life, Izzy. Her and now our baby. If ya wanna keep on bein' a part of my life, yer gonna have to accept that."   
  
Isabella stared at him, ignoring her wet cheeks. When she could take it no more, fresh sobs bubbled up in her chest. Letting one of them out, she ran past him and disappeared through the sliding door.   
  
T'Pol approached him when a minute had passed. "I had no wish to bring you into all of this."   
  
"Darlin'." Trip let out a long sigh as he pulled her into his arms. "C'mon."   
  
"Where are we going?" she asked against his shoulder.   
  
"Sickbay," he replied. "I think it's long past time I got in on this whole baby thing."   
  
"What about Isabella?"  
  
"She'll figure things out. She just needs some space. Izzy's a good girl; she's just a little confused. Once she gets used to the idea, she'll love ya as much as I do."  
  
"I find that very hard to believe."   
  
Trip forced himself to laugh. "Well, I love ya. And Izzy would never do anythin' to hurt me or someone I love. Guaranteed."   
  
****  
  
With Porthos curled up beside him on the bed, Jonathan had just settled into his book when the chime on his door rang. Frowning, he slipped out of bed and went to answer it, temporarily forgetting the fact that he was only wearing the regulation royal blue shirt and shorts.   
  
"What's going..." He stopped when the door opened all the way and he could see who it was knocking at the Captain's door so late at night. "Izzy?"   
  
"Capt'n. Jonathan..." she managed to say between tears. "I'm sorry...so sorry to show up like this." She tried to wipe under her eyes, but the tears kept coming, stronger than ever. "I just...I needed to talk to someone...I'm so sorry."   
  
He hesitated, but only for a moment. Although this could probably be considered completely unprofessional, he simply could not fight the instinct to help a friend. "Come in."   
  
Isabella stepped inside, still trying to combat her sobs. Porthos stood up on the bed, his tail wagging, eager to greet the newcomer. "Porthos, right?"   
  
"Yes." Realizing what he was wearing, Jonathan reached for his robe.   
  
"Charlie's mentioned him." Isabella sat down on the edge of the bed and held out a hand to the beagle. "First dog in space." Completely sympathetic to her pain, Porthos licked her palm. She cracked a small smile. "He's sweet."   
  
Jonathan cleared his throat as the dog jumped off the bed and curled up in his little corner. "Izzy, what's gotten you so upset? Has something happened?"   
  
She let her hand fall back to her side. "Before I start, I want ya to know...I'm not some sort of a bigot."   
  
"Anyone who would accuse you of that doesn't know you."   
  
"Thank ya." Her soft drawl was wistful for a moment before it hardened. "My brother is gonna have a baby with yer Chief Science Officer."   
  
Jonathan's heart actually skipped a beat. "T'Pol is pregnant," he said after a moment. A resigned man, he sat down next to the young girl. "I should have expected this to happen someday."   
  
Isabella shook her head. "I didn't know I was gonna react like this. I just want what's best for my brother. I mean..." She licked her lips. "Ye've dealt with the Vulcans for years, right? Ya know how they are."   
  
"I thought I knew for a long time," he carefully replied.  
  
"Emotionless. They are a people without emotion; they advertise themselves like that!" She paused. "Now, ya also know my brother. Can ya tell me, honestly tell me, that Charlie can ever be happy with someone emotionless?"   
  
Jonathan scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to say. "Trip has succeeded in surprising me every single day that I've known him. Including the day he told me he was in love with T'Pol."   
  
"Does that mean ya think he can?"   
  
"That means...I can't presume to decide what is best for him. And to his credit, he does it pretty well on his own."   
  
Isabella glanced at his profile, taking in the curves and slants of his face. "I just want what's best for him," she whispered. Turning her head, she looked down at her lap. Her vision clouded over once again. "I don't even know what to think anymore."   
  
"Hey." Jonathan put a warm hand on her back. "You shouldn't be upset, Isabella. Trip is going to be just fine. He always is."  
  
She sniffed. "Ya used my full name."   
  
Withdrawing his hand, Jonathan frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."  
  
"No." Isabella lifted her head, meeting his gaze. "I love it. I only tolerate 'Izzy' nowadays." She blinked. "Say it again?"   
  
"Isabella," he said, prompted by some unknown source. Perhaps it was the power of her eyes. Wet and wide, they were deep pools of stormy sea blue in which a man could be lost indefinitely. "Isabella, I think you should get back to..."   
  
She effectively cut him off with a single motion that planted her mouth firmly against his. Too stunned to react right away, Jonathan didn't pull back. Isabella, taking this a signal, cupped her hand around the back of his head as she kissed him.   
  
Finally, he regained control and pulled out of the kiss. "What are you doing?"   
  
"I was kissin' ya," she replied. Supporting her weight on arm, she brushed her mouth over his again. "I don't wanna stop."   
  
He swallowed heavily. "Friend or not, I'm still Captain of this ship. Your commanding officer and I..." His words trailed off as she unzipped the front of her uniform. "Isabella...please don't."   
  
"Tell me ya didn't like it..." She pulled her arms out of the top half of the jumper, leaving her in only a tight fitting blue tank top. Her breasts were deliciously hidden curves, only inches away. "Tell me ya want me to go...and I will."   
  
"Isabella," he began again. But the rest of the sentence wouldn't come to him. Presented with the possibility of spending the night with her as opposed to alone in his big bed, Jonathan Archer chose with his heart rather than his head.   
  
Regret didn't touch him until after they both fell asleep. In his dreams, he realized the magnitude of their actions, but there was nothing he could do about it. The choice had been made; the consequences, whatever they might be, would be dealt with at another time. For that moment, a moment Trip was probably sharing with T'Pol, Jonathan was not alone. And it felt good.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	7. Discoveries

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. The setting doesn't belong to me. In fact, the whole concept doesn't belong to me, alas. What's a girl to do? Answer...fan fiction.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone keeping up with this little piece of my overactive imagination. I appreciate it very much.   
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"So...just what are ya sayin', Doc?"  
  
The Denobulan doctor smiled at the ship's engineer. "I'm saying that I believe T'Pol has passed three months. Of course, it's hard to tell having no menstrual cycle to use as time frame, but it's fairly safe to say that we're in the fourth month at this point."   
  
"Why's that?" Trip demanded.   
  
"Can't you see?" Dr. Phlox looked at his patient. "Haven't you shown him?"  
  
T'Pol gracefully slid off the examination table and reached for Trip's hand. "Vulcan fetuses develop faster in the first few months than Humans." She placed his palm over her lower belly. "Can you feel it?"   
  
Trip frowned for a long minute. Her stomach did feel a bit rounder, firmer somehow, but not all that much different than her usual firmness. He shifted his weight to his other foot, taking care to keep his hand in the same spot. If there was anything to feel, he was determined to feel it.   
  
"Perhaps you cannot," T'Pol eventually said.   
  
"No!" The father-to-be shook his head. "Gimma a sec..." Having been brought into the pregnancy late, he wasn't about to let any of the little moments slip by him again. Since that day three weeks earlier, he had been at every daily check-up, had started watching everything that went into T'Pol's mouth, and fallen asleep several nights with his ear pressed to her abdomen, listening for a heartbeat.   
  
Another minute passed. "Just tell me what I'm sup'osed to be..." Trip's eyes flew open. Underneath his hand, like a child was blowing bubbles on his skin, he could feel the smallest bit of motion. "Is that...kickin'?"  
  
Dr. Phlox nodded. "Quite astounding, isn't it?"   
  
"Izzy didn't kick 'til Momma was a lot bigger..." Trip covered the special spot with both of his hands. "He's gonna be a soccer player!"   
  
"He?" T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "I do not believe that has been established yet."   
  
"Nor will it for awhile. Even with its Vulcan half accelerating its growth, the fetus is still not quite big enough to determine gender." The doctor grinned suddenly. "I have to admit, I was worried for awhile. Human and Vulcan DNA being compatible...one thing's for certain. It will make a most fascinating article for the Interspecies Medical Database."   
  
T'Pol replied over Trip's head. "The Vulcan physicians posed the hypothesis that it was possible, but the Humans were most reluctant to provide them with any sexual cells with which to test the..."  
  
Trip ignored them both. He really didn't give a damn about the science of it all. Through the woman he loved, his very own flesh and blood was reaching out to him and it was, at that moment, the most amazing thing in the entire universe.   
  
Fingers grazed his cheek. He blinked, but didn't remove his hands from her belly. It was T'Pol, touching him, something very rare outside of the privacy of their cabins. "Did you hear me?" she asked.  
  
"Um...shoot it my way again, darlin'."   
  
"I have to get to the bridge."   
  
"Oh." He drew his hands away with much reluctance. "I guess ya can't take off this shift, can ya?"   
  
T'Pol looked up at him. "I think the Captain has been most generous with both of us these past few weeks. I do not wish to push his patience by neglecting my duties."   
  
"Yeah...he has been pretty great 'bout not puttin' ya on night shift. And makin' sure Cook makes the right kindsa food for ya." Trip grinned. "Guess that's more best friend than Cap'tn showin' through there."   
  
With the doctor, they left the examination room and came back into the main part of Sickbay where Isabella was busy wrapping gauze around a crewman's hand.   
  
"What happened?" Trip immediately asked, recognizing the injured man from Engineering.   
  
"Ensign Donaldson burned his hand in the Mess Hall," Isabella replied, her voice even and low. "He has full use of it and should be completely healed in a day or two."   
  
Donaldson smiled at his superior officer. "Your sister has a magical touch, Commander."   
  
"There'll be no magic goin' on here," Trip declared. "And I expect to see ya back at work tomorrow, Ensign, bright and early."  
  
"Yes sir!"   
  
He glanced back at his sister who was far too focused on her simple task. "Izzy..." When she didn't reply, he sighed. "Keep up the good work."   
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Isabella watched him leave with T'Pol. She smiled softly. It was completely typical of her brothers, especially her oldest brother, to overdramatize the need to protect the family baby. But aiming the brunt of that protective vibe at the insignificant man sitting in front of her was just funny, considering with whom she had been spending most of her nights.   
  
They had been right in the Academy. Captains did get the most comfortable beds.   
  
****  
  
Trip insisted upon escorting T'Pol onto the bridge, which she took in stride having become almost accustomed to the pampering of an expectant Human father. If Trip could have figured out a way, he probably would have been following her around with a feather pillow in case she stumbled.   
  
She hadn't been quite prepared for his reaction to the baby kicking. Even the first time it had happened she had only nodded and continued her survey on the gases in the nebula through which they were passing. And while she had taken a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing that the child was thriving, Trip had responded as though it were the single greatest miracle of nature ever witnessed. It made her wonder how he was going to be when she gave birth.   
  
"There you two are!" The Captain stood up as they stepped onto the bridge. His smile was hearty, but his eyes shifted every few seconds. "How is everything?"  
  
"Just fine," Trip replied, proudly. "Any action up here?"   
  
Jonathan shook his head, a bit too vigorously. "Nothing out of the ordinary."   
  
"Well then...guess I'll get back to the boiler room." Trip winked at T'Pol as he started back they way they had just come in. He stopped as a thought him him. "Capt'n...I wanna invite Izzy to dinner tonight."  
  
His old friend paled slightly. "Why?" He recovered smoothly. "I mean...why not?"   
  
The engineer nodded. "See ya then."   
  
As soon as Trip was gone, the Captain's entire frame relaxed. He turned, quickly bringing his attention back to the blank viewscreen. Behind her work station, T'Pol summed up his body language with great ease. The man was guilty of something. She only hoped her first instinct was wrong and that it had nothing to do with Isabella Tucker.  
  
****  
  
Dinner was hellacious for Jonathan Archer. Being seated across from the girl...woman he had been sleeping with for the past few weeks and catty-corner to his best friend, her wildly protective older brother, was probably any man's worst nightmare. But his guilt was doubled knowing that there was nothing between him and Isabella but sex. If there were something more, some emotion with which he could justify his actions, it might have been easier to be around Trip.   
  
As it was, he spent most of the meal staring at his plate, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Even T'Pol was off-limits; every time he looked at her, she seemed to have been already staring at him, almost expectantly. Each time, he would dig back into his food with too much energy, over-compensating for his own guilt.   
  
Isabella watched him without the same remorse. It was fun to look at him, not because of the guilty expression he had personally stamped onto his face but because he was simply a handsome man. Not overtly good-looking like the ambitious command cadets, the boys she had dated at the Academy with their chiseled features and youthful vigor, but a sort of mature good-looking that didn't strike you right away. But when it did, you couldn't get enough. Apples and oranges, she had come to realize boys and men were.   
  
"Yer not eatin' much," Trip pointed out to T'Pol, breaking the silence.   
  
T'Pol looked down at her grilled Terran vegetables. "I have eaten all that I can."   
  
"Are ya feelin' all right?" He set down his fork. "Is there anythin' ya need?" Isabella rolled her eyes, but no one except T'Pol noticed.   
  
"I only require rest." She stood up. "If you will excuse me, Captain." He nodded, his gaze firmly set on his dinner.   
  
Trip pushed his chair back with a loud, metallic scrape. "Doc said ye'd be gettin' tired more often. I should go with ya."   
  
"If you wish," she said in a softer tone that indicated it was exactly what she wanted.   
  
"Night, Capt'n," Trip said, leading the Vulcan woman towards the door. "Izzy."   
  
To his surprise, his sister actually looked straight at him. "Night, Charlie." When they were gone, Isabella turned her attention to her new lover. "Yer awful quiet tonight."   
  
"Yes. Knawing guilt can do that to a man." Jonathan threw down his fork and ran his hands through his hair. "We need to talk."   
  
She carefully speared a piece of squash. "We are talkin'."   
  
"Isabella." He waited until she was looking at him again. "What the hell are we doing?"  
  
"Eatin' dinner." Her reply was flippant and irreverent. When his forehead crinkled, she sighed. "Why does it have to be a big deal? We're consentin' adults who do really well together in bed. I don't see the probl'm."   
  
Jonathan shook his head. "Of course you can't understand. And you wouldn't be blamed for this, anyway. I'm the Captain; I'm the responsible one. And I've let things get completely out of hand. Isabella..." He leaned forward. "We're not just breaking strict Starfleet rules. What we're doing could seriously jeopardize our relationships with someone we both care very much for."   
  
She swallowed. "Charlie's made it very clear who's most important to him in the world. And it's not either of us, Jonathan. It's her. I lost my brother and you lost yer best friend to her." There was a pause. "But maybe...just maybe...this is more about you havin' lost *her* than anythin' else."   
  
"I care for T'Pol as my friend and colleague," he quickly corrected her. "That's it."  
  
"Sure." Isabella stood up and slipped into the seat her brother had occupied. Closer to him, she could reach out and touch his hand. "I'm not on duty tonight. Can I help ya forget her?"   
  
He closed his eyes. "It's not a good idea for us to carry this any..." Her hand moved to his cheek, stroking it with extreme tenderness. His eyes opened. "Wait ten minutes after I go before you leave." She smiled and nodded. Jonathan stood up; his stomach was jumpy, his conscience heavy, but, to his great dismay, his body was already looking forward to the evening ahead.  
  
****  
  
Time moved differently without the sun dictating it, but it was well after the equivalent of midnight when Trip realized that sleep was just not going to claim him that night. There was too much going on in his brain. At the same time that he was figuring out how many man-hours it was going to take to make some necessary adjustments to the warp core, he was also worrying about his dying relationship with his sister, wondering whether his baby was going to have pointed ears or normal lobes, deciding that T'Pol was even more beautiful when she was sleeping and trying to figure out why the Captain had been so nervous lately.   
  
With the greatest of care, he lifted T'Pol's arm from his chest and eased out of bed. She shifted to her other side, still blissfully asleep, managing to remain that way while he pulled on some civilian clothes. He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before he left his cabin.   
  
In minutes he was on the bridge, but the Captain appeared to be off-duty. It was not odd; he got to pick and choose his shifts after all. But when Trip thought back, he couldn't recall a night in the past couple of weeks where his friend had taken the graveyard shift, as he usually did at least a few times a month. It was what made him such a good leader; he wasn't at all hesitant to rub elbows with the lower officers.   
  
Malcolm Reed was the senior officer on duty that night and he stood up from the Captain's seat when Trip entered. "You're not coming to take my chair away, are you?" he asked.   
  
"It's yers, pal," Trip assured him. Besides the two of them, there were only two ensigns on the bridge keeping up operations. "Slow night, I take it."  
  
"Actually it's not all that bad." Malcolm sat back down. "There's a transmission coming through the comm station, but the universal translator is being bloody slow tonight. I doubt it's anything urgent though."   
  
"Why don'tcha wake up Hoshi?"  
  
The British man gave him a look. "Have you ever tried to wake Hoshi in the middle of the night?"   
  
"Can't say that I have." Trip grinned. "But the question is...why have *ya* tried it?"  
  
His comment was ignored. "Let's just say she has a mean right hook for someone who looks so delicate. I'd rather wait until morning."   
  
"Yer in charge." Trip yawned. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought. If ya don't need me...I'll be gettin' back to bed."   
  
"Goodnight," Malcolm called out as he left.  
  
Rather than retrace his steps back to his cabin, Trip took the long route through the Enterprise's corridors, a route that just happened to take him past the Captain's quarters. He hesitated for a moment knowing that his friend would mostly likely be asleep, but wound up stopping in front of the door. With all of the excitement over the baby he hadn't gotten to spend much time with Jonathan. It was not a pattern he wanted to fall into.   
  
Maybe he could even ask for help with Isabella. She had always looked up to his best friend; perhaps she had confided in him about her problems with him and T'Pol being together. The Captain might have insight on how he could fix things with his sister.   
  
It couldn't hurt to ask. He raised his hand to press the door chime.   
  
****  
  
Isabella had been roused from a lazy doze by a warm tongue on the sensitive flesh of her left palm. She curled up her fingers before slowly opening her eyes. A smile followed as she realized what was going on. Sometime while she was sleeping, her hand had fallen over the edge of the bed and had come to the attention of Porthos.   
  
She lifted her head from the pillow just enough to peer over that edge. On the floor, the little beagle wagged his tail, fairly begging to join her. "All right," she whispered. "Just for a minute."   
  
With a little help, Porthos climbed up onto the covers and made several circles before curling up alongside her sheet-covered chest. Isabella stroked his soft head for a moment with her right hand. The motion stirred the heavy arm draped over hers.   
  
Behind her, Jonathan lifted his head from the tangled mass of her blond curls lying over the crook of her bare shoulder. He breathed in deeply, still half-asleep. "What's going on?"   
  
"We have a visit'r," she replied, craning her neck around to see him. "Porthos was gettin' lonely."   
  
He reached further over her body to pat his dog's head. "I thought I put him in the bathroom."   
  
"Ya can't stop a determined pet." Isabella turned her head back around. "He seems perfectly okay with me bein' here." Jonathan reburied his face in her hair. "I wish his owner felt the same."   
  
His reply was muffled. "You know how I feel about all of this."   
  
"I know what ya say when we're not between these sheets." Her foot moved up and down the length of his calf. "But it's a different story when we are."   
  
Jonathan raised his head again. "What sort of person would I be if I didn't feel guilty about sleeping with someone young enough to be my..."  
  
She cut him off. "Let's not play the age game. It's nev'r stopped anyone before; don't see why it should now." Isabella twisted her body around until she was facing him. "If ya really wanna stop all of this I won't make a scene. I'm mature enough to deal with rejection. I mean, I dealt with Charlie's pretty well...it'd be even easier with someone who doesn't love me."   
  
"I care about you, Isabella." He glanced back and forth between her storm-colored eyes. Her carefully applied makeup had smudged during their lovemaking and dozing; soft charcoal kohl outlined each fringe of eyelashes giving her a shadowed, mysterious look. "I just don't want to hurt anyone."   
  
"No one's gonna get hurt," she assured him before taking his mouth in a deep kiss. "'Cept maybe Porthos who keeps havin' to give up his bed." The dog wagged his tail again upon hearing his name. "I won't even let ya get hurt. Unless ya wanna be..." Her mouth turned up in a wicked little smile.  
  
Jonathan shook his head. "You're a firecracker, Isabella. And I haven't played with those in a long time."   
  
"Well..." Her eyelids fluttered as his hand slid over the curve of her waist underneath the sheets. "Ya seem to have gotten back in swing of it..."   
  
The door's chime tore through their steamy kiss that followed. He immediately froze. Isabella blinked. The chime rang again. They stared at each other.   
  
"Who..." Jonathan began to call out before she covered his lips with her slender fingers. "It might be important," he whispered a second later.   
  
"If it is, they'll say so," she whispered back.   
  
The door chimed again. "Capt'n," the voice on the other side called out.   
  
It was unmistakably Trip. Jonathan cursed under his breath. "He'll give up in a minute," Isabella assured him, even after a third chime of the door.  
  
But in the corridor, her brother was getting impatient. Even if the Captain had been completely out of it, he would have woken up by then. Unless something had happened to him...   
  
There were only two people on the ship who knew the emergency code to the Captain's door and he was lucky enough to be one of them. Having flashbacks to their first year on the Enterprise when time-traveling entities had shifted his friend around at will, Trip punched the number into the keypad. A second later, the door slid open.   
  
The two figures in the Captain's bed sat up, one clutching at the sheets to keep herself covered. A long, painful moment passed. Finally, Jonathan spoke. "Trip...this isn't what it..."  
  
Trip threw up a hand. His entire body was ridged as he backed up a step. "Izzy...ten minutes. My cabin."   
  
"Charlie..." she began.  
  
"Ten minutes." He aimed a deadly look at his supposed best friend. "If yer late, I'll come back and drag you outta here." The door slid closed, sealing up the illicit lovers once again. To his relief, Trip managed to make it back to his cabin without collapsing.   
  
It wasn't until he reached his bed, where T'Pol was sleeping on his abandoned pillow, that his knees gave out. He sank down onto the edge, causing her to wake suddenly. She sat up in the dark. "Trip? What has happened?"  
  
He didn't move even when she got up and came around in front of him. Kneeling down to his eye level, she tilted her head to one side, waiting for his response. Finally, he blinked. "T'Pol...it's been a bad night."   
  
When his forehead landed on her shoulder a moment later, she barely hesitated a second before wrapping her arms around his neck. The look on his face...horror, shock, pain...it was the expression that had haunted her dream, like Isabella's anger and....  
  
She looked up at the ceiling. The blood....the baby. It was the last image. The one yet to come true. T'Pol rested the side of her head on the back of Trip's. Having dreams was not all it was made out to be.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	8. Strife

Disclaimer: The usual stuff, promises of no copyright infringement intended, you know it by heart.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone still reading;) I hope you're enjoying it. Also, I forgot to put this in awhile back. All of my information about Vulcans and snipets of the language come from a terrific site called "All Things Vulcan", who in turn get some of their information from the official Starfleet Medical Handbook. Just had to give them their props;) Thanks and happy reading.  
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"I'm coming with you."  
  
Isabella glanced over her bare shoulder as she fastened the hooks of her peach-colored bra. "While I appreciate the offer, I can't see how that's gonna make anythin' better."  
  
"I don't know. It probably won't." Jonathan stood up from the bed. "But I have to do something. Trip's my best friend in this world. And now..." He shook his head. "I wouldn't blame him if he took a swing at me. Several swings."   
  
"My intention was never to come between ya'll." Suddenly somber, Isabella stopped with only two hooks done up.   
  
He watched her carefully, pulling on a pair of dark pants at the same time. "What have your intentions been, Isabella? That's one thing I can't figure out in all of this."  
  
"I like ya," she replied in a soft voice. "Isn't that enough?"  
  
Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, but the comm panel beat him to the punch. "Reed to Archer."   
  
After a half-second's pause, he sighed and moved to answer it. "Archer here. Go ahead, Malcolm."  
  
"Sir, I think you should come to the bridge as soon as possible."  
  
The Captain nodded, as though his armory officer could see him. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Archer out." He flipped off the comm and looked back at Isabella. Sitting on the edge of his bed in her little girl lace and sexpot satin, her full lower lip trembled slightly as she gazed back at him. "Isabella..."   
  
"Yes?" Her gentle prompting came after a painful, long moment of silence.   
  
Jonathan walked back towards her. Kneeling down to her level, he cupped her cheek. "You're so young." With a sigh of self-disgust, he reached for the shirt he had worn to dinner, breaking the moment. "I'm sorry you have to deal with Trip by yourself. Just remember..."  
  
She cut him off, brushing a tear away before it could even fall. "His bark is worse than his bite. Yeah. I know."   
  
After slipping into his shoes, the Captain left his cabin, and the woman in it, and headed straight for the bridge. The heavy paperweight of guilt sat directly on his chest, threatening to crush his lungs with each struggle for breath. The call to the bridge had been all too perfectly timed; facing Trip ten minutes after being caught in bed with his little sister would have only ended in pain. Specifically, his own.  
  
Given time, Trip would cool off and they could settle things more efficiently, hopefully being able to salvage their friendship. Hopefully.  
  
****   
  
T'Pol glanced back and forth between the oldest Tucker offspring and the youngest. In the five minutes since Isabella had bravely appeared at the door, brother and sister had yet to speak a word. Each seemed determined to hold out the longest in a show of Human pride and stubbornness. It was intensely frustrating.   
  
Had she a sibling of her own, T'Pol could not imagine that she would take such an active interest in his or her private affairs. But then, no Vulcan would ever behave as Isabella had, except perhaps in Pon Farr, when one was not responsible for their actions. She understood Trip's anger as a representative of Starfleet, but was still searching to understand his anger as an older brother.  
  
She had the vague thought that perhaps negotiations would fare better if she left, but made no motion to do so. It was only another minute of patient waiting before Trip finally gave in and spoke.   
  
"How could ya do it, Izzy?"  
  
"Oh...just 'bout the same way it's usually done, Charlie." Isabella gestured to T'Pol. "Ye've obviously figured it all out."   
  
Trip's face turned an interesting shade of red. "Are ya on some kinda mission to give me a coronary?! Ya know damn well what I meant!"  
  
"I don't even know why I'm here. I don't owe ya any explanation."   
  
"The hell ya don't!" He grabbed her arm with careful force. "Damnit, Izzy! Don't ya get what ye've done?"  
  
She swallowed. "I haven't done anythin' I haven't done before, Charlie. Only two things're different here. One...ya know 'bout it. And two..."  
  
"Yer sleepin' with my best friend!" His fingers unconsciously dug into her soft flesh. "Who just happens to be superior officer to both of us! Jesus, Izzy..." He released her. "Ya really don't get how major this is, do ya?"  
  
"Maybe yer gonna have to spell it out for me, big brother."   
  
He stared into his own eyes for a long time, but scarcely recognized the young woman attached to them. His Izzy, his baby sister, was not the defiant, daring disaster in front of him. "I'll spell it out for ya, all right." Licking his lips, he glanced over at his lover. "T'Pol, what's Starfleet's position on fraternization?"  
  
"Starfleet regulations prohibit it," she supplied. "As do most known military and scientific institutions throughout the galaxy."   
  
Isabella's lip curled up. "Thank ya, Ms. Textbook...who happens to be doin' a little fraternizin' herself." She shot a significant look to the bed with its rumpled covers. "'Less of course that baby is some kinda 'mmaculate conception."  
  
Trip ran his hands through his hair, quite ready to pull it all out in the heat of the moment. "This isn't 'bout us, Izzy. 'Sides...me and T'Pol have pretty much the same rank." He let his arms fall to his sides. "Not like an ensign and a capt'n."  
  
"I think what goes on in the capt'n's bedroom should be his business only."   
  
"An hour ago, I might've agreed with ya." Her brother rubbed his aching temple. "Izzy..." He stopped, suddenly running out of energy. "Ye've let down our whole family tonight. Momma would have yer hide if she..."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Please. Momma loves Jonathan; she'd be thrilled if I brought him home 'stead of you."   
  
"So...what's that mean? Ya love him?"  
  
A second passed. "Sometimes....sex is just sex," Isabella finally replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Love just sugar-coats somethin' fun to do when yer bored."   
  
Trip shook his head. "That's all ya can say? Yer bored? Ye've put yer career in jeopardy, not to mention what it might do to the Capt'n if word of this ever got back to Starfleet. Ye've let me down...ye've embarrassed yerself in front of T'Pol and..."  
  
"It always comes back to her, doesn't it?" Isabella's eyes narrowed into dangerously thin slits. "Ya just can't have one damn conversation without talkin' 'bout her, can ya? I'm so sick of it!!" Her fists balled up. "I'm so sick of her! If it weren't for her, ya'd understand why..." She stopped, tears springing up out of nowhere. "If ya could, ya'd probably get off on this, right, Subcommander? He's on yer side, totally, after all. All against his real family. The ones who can actually love him."  
  
T'Pol unfolded her arms. "The only one competing between the two of us is you."   
  
The girl's blonde curls bounced furiously as she swung her head from side to side. "It's never been a fair fight, is all. I never had a chance."   
  
"You declared war on me a long time before you stepped foot on Enterprise," the Vulcan continued. "But I have never wanted to do battle at all, Isabella."  
  
"Highly illogical, right?" Her tears flowed down her smooth cheeks in a steady stream.   
  
T'Pol glanced at Trip; his eyes were red as he waged his own battle with his emotions. "The least of all reasons has been logic."   
  
"Archer to T'Pol."   
  
The Captain's voice over the comm cut through their conversation like a hack-saw. The Vulcan woman reached for the cabin's panel. "This is T'Pol."  
  
"You're needed on the bridge right away." There was a pause. "Trip...you too."   
  
Scowling, Trip crossed his arms over his grey cotton shirt. "Yeah. We'll be there when we get there." He strode across the room and turned off the comm.   
  
"Ya shouldn't be mad at Jonathan," Isabella told her brother with quiet conviction. "He feels guilty enough as it is."   
  
"And he damn well should." The Enterprise's engineer turned to his Vulcan lover. "Go ahead and see what's goin' on. I'll catch up." She nodded in her cool way and quickly slipped out of the cabin. Trip's attention returned to his sister. "It all stops tonight, Izzy."   
  
She matched his defensive posture, propping her hands up on her shapely hips. "How much control do ya think ya have over this, Charlie?"  
  
"Maybe Momma and Dad didn't spank ya enough when ya were little," Trip fumed. "Ya know they'd be so disappointed in ya, Izzy."   
  
"Can ya really speak for 'em all?"  
  
"'Bout as much as ya could when it came to their problems with me lovin' T'Pol!"  
  
Isabella lifted her chin. "Least I have a valid reason for not likin' her. But Jonathan's yer friend."  
  
"That doesn't mean I want him boinkin' my baby sister!" Trip shot back. Taking a moment to collect his breath, he shook his head. "Look...I gotta get to the bridge. Just so ya know, we're not done here. Got it?"  
  
"Yer bein' completely unreasonable."   
  
He started for the door. "And yer actin' like a bratty teenager."   
  
Isabella's fists balled up. "Charlie! Yer such a jerk!! I hate ya!!"   
  
Her last words went ignored as the cabin door slammed shut behind him. A scream tore through her throat; Isabella picked up the first thing she saw, a water glass and threw it across the room. It shattered into a thousand pieces across the metal floor.   
  
****  
  
"Nice of you to join us, Commander."   
  
Trip replied to the Captain's greeting between clenched teeth. "I know." He glanced around the bridge. It had been quiet and empty only a half-hour earlier. Now it bustled with activity. Hoshi sat at her comm station, holding her ear piece up with one hand and punching buttons with the other. Malcolm had given up his chair and moved to the armory station where he was waiting, perched and ready, in case he got the chance to exercise his weapon skills. Travis at the helm, T'Pol at the science station. It was the usual scene presented whenever he got called up from Engineering.   
  
"We have a situation. A communication was received and processed not too long ago," Jonathan filled him in. "Hoshi's rechecking the translation, but we're fairly sure it's a distress call."   
  
He crossed over to Malcolm's station. "Where from?"  
  
"The point of origin appears to be a small vessel approximately nine light years away from our present position," T'Pol replied.   
  
"What can you do to get us there as fast as possible?" Jonathan asked his friend.   
  
Trip scratched the back of his head. "With the upgrades we're in the middle of doin', best I can give ya is Warp Two. Maybe Warp Three if ya wanna risk the ship fallin' apart."  
  
"Warp Two would put us there in twenty-nine hours, forty-five minutes."   
  
Giving the Vulcan a grimace, Jonathan shook his head. "That's not good enough if there are people in trouble. Ensign, set a course. Warp Three."  
  
Travis nodded. "Aye, aye sir."   
  
"Captain." Hoshi removed the comm piece from her ear. "I've checked the translation. It *is* a distress call, from a cargo ship." Her delicate nose crinkled up. "And it's Ferengi, sir."   
  
A moment passed. "Does this mean we can drop to Warp Two, Captain?" Malcolm asked.   
  
In the three years since their initial encounter with the then anonymous greed mongers, Starfleet had managed to squeeze enough information out of the Vulcan High Council to identify the strange race to which the thieves had belonged, as well as put their language into the linguistic database.   
  
Still, the idea of encountering them again, even though only Trip, T'Pol and Jonathan had actually seen them, was not a pleasant one. Intergalactic thieves had a strange way of making themselves very unwelcome by reputation.   
  
"We're out here to explore and help as much as we can. That means helping anyone and everyone," Jonathan reminded his armory officer. There was a pause. "Drop down to 2.5, Travis." Upon catching T'Pol's raised eyebrow, he lifted one shoulder. "Don't want the ship to fall apart, after all." Her brow remained arched, even as she returned her attention to her station. Jonathan cleared his throat. "Let's get going."   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	9. Gone

Disclaimer: Characters within do not belong to me, but to Paramount Studios, through the creative genius of Gene Roddenberry.  
  
Author's Notes: It's been a very, very, very long time since I updated this. I don't want to jinx myself, but I'm ready to finish the story, so hopefully updates on it will be more regular from now on. Thanks for all the reviews and support!!!  
  
****  
  
Firecracker  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"I'm Captain Archer of the Starfleet ship, Enterprise." Jonathan fought with every diplomatic muscle in his body to keep the revulsion off his face as he spoke to the far-too-magnified Ferengi on the viewscreen. "We picked up your distress call."  
  
"Daemon Deg," the alien replied, baring a mouth full of broken, yellowed teeth.   
  
There was a pause. "Um...what is your situation?" the Enterprise's captain asked.   
  
"One of our engines...overheated. Several of my crew were injured." The Daemon leaned forward. "We lack the medical supplies to take care of them, Captain. Perhaps you have some to spare."  
  
"Of course." He looked back at his crew; they were all staring at the screen with matching looks of vague disgust, save for T'Pol. "We also have a highly trained medical staff if any of the injuries are severe."  
  
"Oh, they are," Deg replied all too quickly.  
  
Jonathan nodded slowly. "Well then. If you'll dock with us, we'll get to work right away. Also, my engineers can help you with repairs, if you need a hand there." He glanced back at Trip, who grimaced, but nodded. "We'll assemble a boarding party then."  
  
"It is more than appreciated." The screen went blank in the middle of the Ferengi's crooked smile.   
  
"I don't like it." Hoshi shook her head. "What kind of ship, even a cargo ship, doesn't carry medical supplies?"  
  
"What do your sensors tell you?" Jonathan asked Malcolm  
  
The British man lifted his shoulders. "There is damage to their engine, sir. Hard to tell how severe though; their systems are quite different than ours."   
  
"Then we'll just have to proceed with caution. Trip, take one of your engineers over to assess the damage. I'll have Dr. Phlox assemble a medical team."   
  
"Ferengi anatomy is unique," T'Pol said. "However, I have been studying it since we received the species profile from the High Council, and I feel confident in my ability to help Dr. Phlox's team."  
  
Jonathan nodded. "All right. You'll go over, too, T'Pol."   
  
Trip shook his head. "I don't think that's such a good idea. If it's all the same to ya, I'd rather T'Pol stay here where it's safe."  
  
The Vulcan woman arched an eyebrow. "I do not need to be grounded as though I were infirm."  
  
"Not sayin' that. I just don't want ya in any danger."  
  
"Until Dr. Phlox tells me otherwise, I will continue to perform my everyday duties to the best of my ability," T'Pol replied coolly.   
  
Trip folded his arms. "Capt'n?"  
  
"Commander Tucker." Jonathan cleared his throat. This was probably going to set any hope of a reconciliation between him and his friend behind by several steps. "If Subcommander T'Pol thinks she's up for it, I see no reason to stop her yet." He put a hand on the back of Travis' chair. "Ensign...prepare the ship for docking procedures."   
  
****  
  
"Ya want me to do what?" Isabella stared at the strange doctor she had come to respect in her weeks aboard Enterprise. At that moment though, all she could think was that he was as crazy as her first impression of him had told her he would be. "Ya want me to go with the medical team to the alien ship?"   
  
Dr. Phlox gave his youngest nurse a puzzled look. "Is this not why you joined your Starfleet? To encounter and explore?"  
  
She let out a breath. "Yeah. Sure it is. I just...didn't know I'd be doin' it so soon."   
  
"Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today." He handed her a metal carrying case. "Everything you need should be in here. Our alien...friends are humanoid for the most part. You'll do just fine."   
  
"Yer not comin'?"  
  
The doctor shook his head. "The Ferengi are not a species I wish to have anything to do with." He ushered her towards the door of Sickbay. "Go now or they'll be boarding without you."   
  
"And that would be bad...why?"   
  
"Think positively." The doors slid closed just in time for Isabella to catch a glimpse of the doctor's thumbs up. She exhaled a harsh breath and stamped her foot. The childish gesture was so satisfying that she did it again.  
  
Unfortunately at that moment, T'Pol appeared from around the corner carrying a large plastic box. "I assume from the medical kit that Dr. Phlox is sending you to the Ferengi vessel."   
  
Isabella lifted her chin. "Never underestimate Vulcan intelligence, I guess."   
  
She stopped just in front of Trip's sister. The two women watched each other for a long moment. "As a Starfleet officer, I expect that your personal feelings will in no way effect this mission."   
  
"As a Vulcan Subcommander, I 'spect ya have no personal feelin's at all," Isabella shot back.   
  
T'Pol unlatched the box and pulled out a phase pistol. "Lieutenant Reed wants everyone to be prepared for the worst."   
  
The younger girl took the weapon without hesitation. "Charlie wouldn't let anythin' happen to me."  
  
Eyebrow raised, T'Pol continued down the corridor. Isabella followed, but only when there was a good gap between them. A few minutes later, they both found themselves in the antechamber to the docking bay along with Trip, two engineers, two security officers and another nurse. Hoshi was also there handing out universal translators.   
  
"If you have any problems, I'll do my best to walk you through them," she told Isabella as she handed her the device.   
  
"Yer not comin' along?"  
  
Hoshi shook her head, not entirely regretfully. "But I'll be listening, don't worry."   
  
"It's gonna be in and out," Trip declared. "Trust me when I say these guys are uglier than sin and we really don't wanna be hangin' out with 'em longer than necessary."   
  
The Captain's voice reached them through the comm system. "Be cautious, all of you. Don't turn your backs on them. Call for help if you need it." He paused. "Good luck."  
  
"That's not very reassuring," the other nurse whispered to Isabella. She didn't have time to reply; the doors were already opening into the airlock that would take them over to the damaged ship. Isabella Tucker took her first steps onto an alien vessel with trepidation. Despite the current strain between them, having her brother close by kept most of her fears at bay.   
  
Unfortunately it did nothing for her revulsion upon seeing her first Ferengi a moment later. The short alien with huge ears approached their party rapidly, wringing his hands in a way that reminded Isabella of a ancient cartoon carpetbagger.   
  
"Welcome Human friends." He grinned at them. "We are so very humbled by your..."  
  
T'Pol cut him off. "Where are your injured crew members?"  
  
"And your engine room?" Trip added.   
  
Two more Ferengi appeared from the shadows. Isabella had to wonder if she was the only one drawing cockroach analogies in her head. "We have moved the wounded away from engineering," the leader informed them. "If you..." He motioned to Trip and his engineers. "...will follow Mag. And you..." His leer suddenly turned towards Isabella, T'Pol and the other nurse. "...follow me."   
  
"I'd rather our team stay togeth..." As the Ferengi moved further away, Trip's protest trailed off. With a sigh, he turned to the security officers. "One of yall with each group." Both men nodded, each placing a hand on the phase pistol at their sides. Trip looked at T'Pol. "Be careful." She inclined her head slightly. He then glanced at his sister. "Izzy, same goes."   
  
Managing a small smile, his sister followed T'Pol and the Ferengi leader, backed up by the nurse and security officer. Trip watched until they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight into the depths of the Ferengi ship.  
  
****  
  
"Do you wish to tell them or shall I?"  
  
With one gloved hand resting on one of the two fallen Ferengi, Isabella looked up at the older woman. "Ya wouldn't mind?" But T'Pol was already heading towards the Ferengi leader who hovered near the door to their makeshift Sickbay. "Of course ya don't mind," she continued under her breath.  
  
Her attention turned back to her patient. Her recently deceased patient. Even with their instruments and T'Pol's basic knowledge of the alien's anatomy, the strange little man had died only moments earlier, bleeding out through a massive chest wound.   
  
As she slowly rose to her feet from her crouching position, Isabella pulled off her bloody gloves and shook out her cramped legs. Nearby, the nurse whose name she couldn't quite remember was working on a less injured Ferengi. The man was already sitting up and talking.   
  
It was surprising how quickly she had acclimated to the strange Ferengi features. They no longer seemed quite as freakish. Still weird, but more of a curiosity than something to be afraid of.   
  
The other nurse moved away from her patient and joined Isabella. "Just the one casualty?"   
  
"Yeah." Trip's sister pointed at T'Pol. "She's lettin' them know. I guess we're just about done here."  
  
"Good thing." The nurse shivered slightly. "I don't like these people. If you can even call them that."   
  
Isabella patted her arm. "Why don't you go tell the lieutenant that we're done. We can join up with the engineers and get back to the ship."   
  
The woman who was only a few years older than she nodded. "I'll be back." Isabella watched her leave the cramped room that was serving as a temporary Sickbay.   
  
T'Pol walked back over to her a minute later. "Daemon Deg wishes to thank you for your attempts to save his crew member."   
  
"Great," Isabella replied. "I didn't do anythin', but whatever." Her gaze fell on the other injured Ferengi. One of them had begun to convulse slightly. She was instantly on guard. "That one's in trouble!"   
  
She and T'Pol ran for him, Isabella pausing only to grab her medical kit. She was pulling out a hypodermic syringe when she heard the doors slam shut. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. "What the hell?" A red emergency light flooded over them, allowing minimal sight. Isabella looked at T'Pol. "What's going on?"  
  
"I wish I knew." The Vulcan looked down at their Ferengi patient. "Perhaps we should ask him."   
  
Isabella followed her line of sight; the alien who had been seizing a moment before was still shaking, but this time with laughter. He reached up and plucked their phase pistols from their hip holders, turning the weapons onto them. "It seems as though you'll be staying with us for awhile, lovely ladies."   
  
****  
  
One thing Trip had learned early on during his time with the Enterprise was that when you were staring down the barrel of any kind of weapon, especially one you didn't recognize, it was best to just put your hands up and do what you were told until you figured out a better course of action.  
  
So, when the Ferengi officers who had been hovering over him and his crew as they worked suddenly pressed the equivalent of phase pistols against their necks, Trip immediately froze. "Hey," he said trying to turn his head without moving too much. "Just what the hell do ya think yer doin'?"  
  
"Silence, Human! You will drop what you are doing and stand. With your hands in the air."   
  
He muttered the most foul curse he could come up with under his breath. The Ferengi behind him dug the weapon into the back of his neck. "Okay!" He slowly dropped the tool in his hand and indicated for his men to do the same. "No need to get all crazy here. If there's somethin' ya want from us..."  
  
"What we want, we are in the process of taking. On your feet!"  
  
Trip stood just as slowly; with the new height difference between his crew and their captors, the weapons were now pointed up against the underside of their chins. Strategically...not much better than before. "I know somethin's wrong with yer ship. We're helpin' ya...what else could ya possibly want?"  
  
Daemon Deg appeared, a leering smile on his twisted lips. "Escort the Commander and his crew back to the airlock. We have what we want now."  
  
"Just so ya know...I'm no diplomat." Trip made a grab for the weapon at his throat. He almost had it when another Ferengi fired at him. The blast hit his right arm, burning and stunning at the same time. Trip clutched at the wound, doubling over from the pain. His guard took the opportunity to pistol-whip him across the face. Blood spurted over the front of his uniform and he felt Ferengi grab each of his arms. When he looked up, he saw his crew faring no better against the aliens; their security guard was unconscious.   
  
He spoke around the blood in his mouth. "Whatever it is that ya want...take it. Just let me get...my people back to our ship. Intact."   
  
"Thank you for your very generous offer, Commander." Daemon Deg signaled to his men and they began dragging the Engineering crew. "I believe that we will be taking you up on it." In the corridor, they joined up with another group of Ferengi escorting the second security and the other nurse.  
  
"Wait...where's..." Trip's question was cut off by a kick to his knees.   
  
They reached the airlock door and when pressure had been restored, the Enterprise crew were haphazardly thrust into it. Daemon Deg smiled at them. "It has been a pleasure to do business with your new Starfleet. I hope for many more such profitable exchanges between us."   
  
Trip rubbed his forearm across his lower face. "We're missin' two of our crew, our Chief Science Officer and..."   
  
The airlock door slid into place with a hiss and a metallic thud, leaving the bloody and bewildered crew in the small space between the Enterprise and the vacuum of space. The entire world seemed to shake as the Ferengi vessel broke away from the ship and disappeared in a bright burst of warp light.   
  
He looked around the group, praying that he'd been mistaken and just hadn't seen his sister or his lover. But it wasn't his beaten mind playing tricks on him. They weren't there. They'd been taken into the depths of space by the Ferengi raiders.   
  
What seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few minutes, the opposite end of the airlock opened. A security team along with Reed, Hoshi and the Captain stood on the other side, worry stamped across each of their faces.   
  
"What happened?" Jonathan asked, bordering on the far side of panic. "Their ship just took off without warning."  
  
"Communications got jammed," Hoshi continued, almost breathless from the run from the bridge.   
  
"We're bloody lucky it didn't rip away this entire airlock and the lot of you with it," Malcolm added.  
  
Hoshi had already started counting heads. "Where's Subcommander T'Pol...and Nurse Tucker?" She turned a horrified look towards Trip. "Oh my god...they're not..."  
  
"They've got 'em." Trip looked straight at his oldest friend and commanding officer. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't protect my crew." Before the Captain could reply, Trip's shoulders slumped over and had it not been for the quick actions of the security man closest to him, he would have collapsed.   
  
Jonathan reached for a comm panel. "Archer to Phlox, get a medical team down here on the double."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
He turned his head to look out the airlock's tiny window. Space stretched out around them in every direction. And the two women he cared most about in the world could be anywhere in it...having anything conceivable done to them.   
  
"Let's get a message to Starfleet and have them pass it on to the Vulcans." He spoke with practiced calm, although he would have liked to scream the words and accentuate them with punches to the walls. "We've got a renegade ship of Ferengi who have kidnapped two of Starfleet's personnel. We're going to go after them personally, but any allies we have...now would be the time to call in some favors. Hoshi?"   
  
"I'll send it priority one," she replied softly.   
  
"Senior staff meeting on the bridge in one hour. I'll want more than just ideas on how to track that ship; I'll be expecting solutions and projections." Jonathan bypassed the security officers and ducked underneath Trip's arm until he was single-handedly supporting his shell-shocked friend. "Understood?" There was a murmur of affirmative replies. "No one rests until they're back on board. And safe."   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


End file.
